by Emma Boyns
Sometimes, I think about your beginning.
I daydream of the day I discover you, your presence marked only by an extra line, pale and pink, a parallel pair. I think of the time I will hear the poetic rap-rap-rap that your centimetre-long self radiates.
I am already in love.
I will wonder what you did before I found you, how your roots clung to the lining of my womb with such determination, an incredible seed sown. I sit back and lay my fingers on the pale, goose-pimpled skin above where I hope you’ll one day grow, and imagine feeling you move beneath my layers of fat and flesh and muscle. I was built to protect you. I picture you dancing in the amniotic rain.
And I am impatient for you.
I’m just waiting for the right beginning, and hoping with all my heart that it will come one day.
Emma Boyns is a Sussex-grown country-bumpkin attempting to make it in the Big Smoke. She’s an all-round creative as well as a food lover and is lucky enough to be (eating and) taking pretty of pictures food for a living. Writing is a therapeutic way for Emma to communicate the tangled web of randomness that goes on in her head without expensive therapy bills.